


Sequences

by a_Wreck



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orchestra, F/M, Gen, M/M, Modern Era, Multi, Pining Grantaire, concertmaster enjolras, contrabassist grantaire, enjolras has a quarter life crisis, enjolras is confusion, grantaire is talented af, string orchestra, the musain is a music school now, which actually might be a midlife crisis cuz he presumably has a short lifespan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 22:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16543214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_Wreck/pseuds/a_Wreck
Summary: Enjolras wants nothing more than winning the National Orchestra Competition. But life is life and nothing turns out the way it should.Or the string orchestra au no one asked for





	Sequences

**Author's Note:**

> Sequence (ii) A melodic or polyphonic idea consisting of a short figure or motif stated successively at different pitch levels, so that it moves up or down a scale by equidistant intervals.
> 
> ((for more details about the orchestra see the notes at the end))
> 
> Also, English isn't my first language, so if I make any mistake or use wrong music terms, please let me know  
> It is also my first work that I upload here and my first ever les mis fic, so please comment your thoughts. I would really appriciate it :) 
> 
> The second chapter is in the making it is coming sooner than you would think
> 
> Special thanks for Nóri who helped me a lot with this

Enjolras sat at a table in the cafeteria of the Musain Music School with his face in his hands. He wasn’t exactly devastated, but the still untouched, cold cup of coffee in front of him told a lot about his mood. He wasn’t one to just let coffees go cold, but on that day, he was pissed at the world and its various ways to keep him from his dreams. His irritation only grew, since his best friends, Combeferre and Courfeyrac seemed to have already forgotten the tragic news they had just received at their string orchestra rehearsal half an hour ago, because instead of accompanying Enjolras in his misery, they were listening to a Verdi opera on Combeferre’s phone.

If it wasn’t for the crisis their string orchestra was currently facing, Enjolras would have been happy for them. They looked adorable with Courf pushing his temple into the croon of Ferre’s neck, but they had just heard the news that their contrabassist had moved to England and they had no one to help them out and the other members who were draped over different tables at the cafeteria looked unbothered by the whole situation. 

Well, Enjolras had to admit, they weren’t a normal sized orchestra even with their contrabassist. They lacked two violinists, but they made it work, so the others had every right to think they could make it work without a contrabassist too, but the truth was that Enjolras wanted a full orchestra. He wanted to have everything complete and he wanted a contrabassist. None of them needed any more last-minute changes before the orchestra competition, which was in two months.

“I see, you’re troubled” Enjolras heard Jehan approaching from behind him. They apparently decided, what Enjolras needed was a calming massage, because they grabbed his shoulders and started to massage them with firm and skilful hands.

Okay, maybe Enjolras really needed a massage, because at least he wasn’t worried and tensed anymore. Just worried.

“See, it’s helping” Jehan announced proudly to apparently Eponine and Musichetta, because Enjolras could hear them laugh at the other table.

“Damn, I should have tried that” Courfeyrac leaned over Combeferre to investigate. “He looks like a pleased cat” he teased. Enjolras set up straight at that. No matter how much he wanted to lean back and ignore their current problems, he had to think about the them to solve them. He was their concertmaster after all. If he wasn’t going to come up with something, who was?

“Oh, you ruined it” Jehan shook their head, which caused a few flowers to fall out from the long, red locks.

“Oh, come on, Enj” Courf shook his head. “Relax a little!”

“I can’t” Enjolras answered. “We don’t have a contrabassist. We need one.”

“Okay, then let’s find a solution together” Bossuet offered from where he laid on one of the tables. As he spoke his head moved, which made his boyfriend, Joly, move along with it, since the boy was resting his chin on the other man’s bald head and had his arms around his neck. Enjolras had seen their girlfriends, Musichetta taking a picture of them earlier. 

The whole orchestra sat in silence for a while, all ten of them thinking, Enjolras assumed, because after a while. Jehan looked up at the others with a proud face.

“I think I know the solution” they announced, clearly pleased with themselves.

“What’s it?” Bahorel asked excitedly.

“Not what, who” Jehan corrected him. “I have a friend I can ask to help. I’ve asked him a few times before if he would come to play with us, but he always said he isn’t really an orchestra person, though he totally is” Jehan added quickly, seeing Enjolras’s doubtful expression. “But if I tell him it’s an emergency and it’s important to me, then I think he would be willing to help.”

“Does he play the contrabass?” Enjolras leaned forward. It was short notice, but the songs weren’t incredibly difficult to learn, and they would play from sheets anyway.

“Well, not yet” Jehan fidgeted with the hem of their Hawaii shirt nervously. “He’s actually a cellist and well… many other things, but he’s really talented. Honestly, I think he could learn to play the contrabass by tomorrow.”

Enjolras could feel his face drop. “We need someone professional, Jehan” he said. “I’m sure your friend is great” he added, after seeing the hurt expression on his friend’s face. “But we can’t afford to settle with someone amateur for the national competition. Winning that, we will earn us a lot of offers and that way we will be better known, and then we can actually decide what to play and where. We will be able to aid good causes with our music. Plus, we will get into the European competition” he added, because that was what the others were most excited about.

“But he could do it” Jehan repeated. The problem with Jehan was that it was impossible to tell if their trust was actually well-deserved or not. They declared that Courfeyrac could stuff twenty marshmallows in his mouth and that Bossuet could waltz around the room while playing his viola with the same enthusiasm as they talked about their would-be contrabassist friend now, and the first occasion ended with Courfeyrac nearly choking on marshmallows and the second one with a broken bow and Joly getting a minor concussion.

“No” Enjolras shook his head.

“Enjolras, but…” Jehan argued, but Enjolras cut him off.

“Sorry, Jehan, but we need to be one hundred per cent sure” he said, then grabbed his violin and stood up. “I’m heading home” he offered to end the discussion and the others were quick to agree.

“You sure about turning down this offer?” Courfeyrac asked when it was only the two of them and Combeferre walking on the streets of Paris towards Combeferre’s car.

“I think we should accept any help we get” Combeferre agreed.

“We will get help” Enjolras shook his head. “Professional help.”

 

They didn’t get professional help. As the days were closing in on the competition Jehan became harder and harder to argue with about their friend’s help. Not only did they become more and more demanding, as time went on, but most of the orchestra started agreeing with them. But Enjolras wanted someone professional, not a cellist trying to pass as a contrabassist, so he resisted and waited.

Of course, the waiting would have been unbearable if he didn’t do something, so he concentrated on school instead. He neglected his grades in favour of the orchestra in the first semester and his parents believed eleventh grade was important, so he studied. Not like he wanted them to have a good impression on him, but they certainly couldn’t use their old arguments against his night long violin practises anymore. And he did want to become a lawyer someday after all. Only after he toured Europe with violin, of course.

He managed to make himself believe that someone will offer to help them after a while, or their conductor, Jean Valjean will manage to find someone, so he didn’t worry much about the issue after a while. It seemed like the others had accepted the situation about three weeks before the competition as well, because they stopped asking for a contrabassist and continued the rehearsals as if everything was alright.

It maybe sounds unbelievable, but the realisation that they didn’t have a contrabassist after all, only struck Enjolras on the very day of the competition.

“What?” Combeferre picked up the phone at 5 am, when Enjolras sat up in bed, awake in a moment, his friend already dialled. Ferre was clearly woken by him, but he decided, letting him know about the crisis was more important.

“It’s the day of the competition and we don’t have a contrabassist” Enjolras cried into the phone so loud that Combeferre probably had to hold it away from his face.

“Oh, so you’ve realised” he muttered.

“I’ve realised? I’ve realised??” Enjolras panicked, his voice kicking higher and higher. His parents were going to wake up, but he didn’t care. Apparently Combeferre did.

“Ssh, you’re going to wake up Courf” he whispered. The lucky bastard was already in college and had a shared apartment with Courfeyrac. What Enjolras would have given to live there instead of living with his parents.

“He should be awake, we have a crisis” Enjolras shouted.

“No, we don’t” Combeferre answered on an unbelievably calm voice.

“What? Ferre, yes we do” Enjolras was still way too loud for the hour, slowly working himself into panic.

“We have a contrabassist” Combeferre continued. “Jehan’s friend, Grantaire.”

“What? Who? The cellist?” Enjolras grimaced. His sleepy mind trying to put together the information. “But he isn’t a contrabassist.”

“Well, he is now” Combeferre said on a voice that gave no space for arguing. It was in moments like that when it became obvious how Enjolras was in fact two years younger than his friends. “Me and Courf invited him to play with us about three weeks ago.”

“And didn’t you want to tell me about that? Or Valjean?” Enjolras asked on an audibly quieter tone.

“Valjean knew” Ferre answered and after a beat of pointed silence from Enjolras’s part he added. “And you finally became so relaxed we didn’t want to trouble you with it.”

“But…” Enjolras tried to argue.

“But what?” Combeferre asked, and Enjolras could hear that he was smiling.

“But I’m the concertmaster, I’m supposed to know about these things.”

“Listen, Enj, I know you are very responsible and what you’re doing, you’re doing it very well, but this orchestra is not simply your responsibility” Combeferre explained and before Enjolras could argue he continued. “I know you have plans with it. Great plans, really. But if we wouldn’t agree with you we would tell. It’s a team thing. Okay?”

“Okay” Enjolras agreed after a beat of silence.

“Now, go get some more sleep before the big day, concertmaster!” Combeferre ordered.

“Thanks, Ferre” Enjolras sighed before he put down the phone. He didn’t think he could sleep more, but Combeferre’s voice was so calming he actually laid back on his bed and the next moment, he was asleep.

 

Enjolras was buzzing with nervous excitement as he got out of Combeferre’s car in front of the Musain music school. They planned one last rehearsal with their new contrabassist, before heading to the competition with a mini bus, Jean Valjean had rented.

“Here we are” Courfeyrac came up next to him and laced his arm around his neck. “Joly texted me that he, Bossuet, Feuilly, Musichetta and Eponine are already in” Enjolras only nodded. He kept thinking about how they would perform in front of important people from the music world that night.

And they had no contrabassist. A little voice in Enjolras’s mind was still sceptical, though Combeferre and Courfeyrac spent the entire day convincing him how that Grantaire guy was really a good solution.

“Let’s go in!” Combeferre, who was parking the car walked up next to them, so in they went.

“Hey, our first violin!” Bossuet cheered as they entered and quickly wrapped himself around all three of them.

“You excited?” Courf smiled at him.

“Really” he nodded and smiled back nervously. “But I’m optimistic. We will rock this.”

“Cause, we have class” Musichetta added from her seat next to her violin.

“Oh, stop with the music puns” Eponine, who had just entered the room shook her head.

“You’re the one talking? I live with them” Joly whined. “They’ve been doing that all day.”

“Where were you anyway?” Enjolras turned to Eponine. She was supposed to be getting ready.

“I got some fresh air on the balcony” she shrugged. The Musain had one balcony, which was the favourite spot of the smokers. “Stop judging, blondie” she shook her head at Enjolras’s expression. “When you get older you will understand” she added with a smirk and Enjolras was about to open his mouth to tell her off, when Bahorel entered.

“Hey guys! Jehan and the new guy are here” he announced excitedly. “They are carrying the contrabass.”

“How is he?” Courfeyrac asked excitedly, but he didn’t get an answer, because in the next moment the head of the contrabass entered the room with Jehan, then the whole instrument was inside alongside with a guy, carrying its body. Grantaire – Enjolras reminded himself.

He stared at the boy with dark, slightly curly hair, which was well-kept, but probably only for the occasion, because the stranger was slightly familiar from Jehan’s posts on social media and that guy was not that well-shaved and freshly washed. He smelled heavily like cigarette, which made Enjolras flinch. He was looking at his feet in concentration not to drop the instrument, but as he and Jehan managed to carefully put it down next to the wall, he straightened up to look around. He had a not so amused half-smile, which suggested he wasn’t impressed by what he saw. It made Enjolras unbelievably angry. They had four hours before the competition and this guy – who wasn’t even a contrabassist didn’t even care.

“Hey, guys! This is Grantaire” Jehan stepped forward with a proud smile on their face. “My friend, so be nice to him” they added with a pointed look towards Enjolras.

“Well, of course” Courfeyrac, ever the optimist smiled, like he wasn’t bothered by the boy’s unamused stare at all. Which he probably wasn’t.

“It’s harder than you think” the boy answered with a sarcastic smile and Enjolras could have slapped him right there.

“My boyfriend has an overly friendly personality and I can tell he likes you” Combeferre informed Grantaire on a confidential tone, that greatly irritated Enjolras. How could his friends warm up to this guy so quickly? “You will never be able to get rid of him now.”

“Well, okay, I guess” he shrugged. How could he be so indifferent about everything? “But I must warn you, I am a poor choice for a friend.”

“Ah, he’s joking” Jehan laughed as they leaned against him.

“Well, hello, everyone!” Valjean entered. “Grantaire, if I’m not mistaken” he spotted Grantaire between the others and went to shake his hand. “Thank you so much for your help!”

Courfeyrac elbowed Enjolras in the side. He didn’t even realise he was rolling his eyes.

“Okay, everyone, we have two hours to rehearse everything with our new contrabassist before we take off” Valjean clapped his hands together. “Let’s start!”

 

“Don’t forget to give more at the end with your tremolo solo, but otherwise, you will be fine” Valjean turned to Grantaire as he dove into the mini bus after Feuilly. “You sure you didn’t have a teacher to help you? You’ve learnt to play the instrument pretty fast.”

“It’s not that different from a cello” he shrugged.

“Don’t let him fool you, sir” Jehan stepped into the bus after him. “He’s a genius. He can play the cello, guitar, flute.”

“I see” Valjean nodded with a friendly smile. Grantaire just shrugged and went to find a seat. God, how much he irritated Enjolras. “You have everything packed?” Valjean stopped Bossuet at the door by routine.

“Sure” he smiled up at him.

“Suit?” Valjean questioned further.

“Check” the boy smiled, clearly proud of himself.

“The orchestra’s tie?” they all wore matching deep red ties, or in the girls’ cases, scarfs. 

“I have it all” Bossuet beamed.

“We helped him pack everything” Joly smiled over his boyfriend’s shoulder, motioning at him and Musichetta.

“Good to see you are in a healthy relationship” Valjean smiled fatherly, but stopped Bossuet once again, before he could enter the bus. “Viola?”

“Oh, damn” he hit his temple. “It’s in the Musian” he turned to run back into the music school.

“Almost” Valjean smiled at his partners.

“We didn’t think he was gonna leave his viola” Musichetta laughed, clearly smitten by Bossuet’s forgetfulness. Enjolras suddenly remembered why he chose the violin as his only love. He would never be able to tolerate anyone’s irritating habits for the sake of love.

“Okay, get in the bus” Valjean motioned them to get in.

“Wait, wait, sir! Can I come?” Gavroche shouted. The eleven-year-old little guy ran out of the music school. His little violin in his hand. It seemed like he had just finished his lesson.

“It’s a competition Gavroche, not a public concert” Eponine rolled her eyes. She wasn’t overly enthusiastic about his little brother following the orchestra everywhere.

“But he can come, can’t he?” Courfeyrac leaned down to lift up the little guy. He was an honorary brother to him by now. Combeferre was right, once Courf decided he liked you there was no escaping from his love. Not like Gavroche minded.

“Of course, this little guy can come” Valjean ruffled Gavroche’s hair. “At least during that time, he won’t get into any trouble.”

“I wouldn’t be sure about that” Eponine rolled her eyes but didn’t oppose.

“Here I am” Bossuet stopped next to the bus. This time, viola in hand. “Someone has put it under the piano. Just my luck.”

“Excellent, let’s go!” Enjolras motioned towards the bus with a sigh. They were fifteen minutes behind schedule, but of course, it didn’t bother anyone expect him.

“Can I sit next to you?” Gavroche turned towards Courfeyrac, who looked up at Combeferre with a questioning look.

“Go, sit with the kid” he laughed. “I’ll sit with our mini boss” he ruffled Enjolras’s hair.

“Ugh” Enjolras groaned one last time before entering the bus, leaving behind only Joly, who were asking Valjean about the place where he rented the bus from.

“It’s clean, Joly, I swear” he rolled his eyes. “Can we please just go?”

“So, everything is alright now, right?” Combeferre asked as he slid into his seat next to Enjolras. The back of the bus was stuffed with cellos and the contrabass, while the orchestra members sat side by side in the seats for twos. Enjolras and Combeferre sat near the front.

“What do you mean?” Enjolras tore his eyes away from the scene on the sidewalk. He leaned his chin on his violin case between his legs and looked up at his friend.

“You have to admit, Grantaire is just as good as our previous contrabassist, if not even better” Combeferre explained.

“Ugh, that guy is so irritating” Enjolras sat up to throw his head back against the seat. Combeferre watched him with a surprised expression.

“What?”

“What?” Enjolras echoed. “I mean, can’t you see how he doesn’t care? Like this competition doesn’t matter to him at all” he explained.

“Enj, he learnt to play a new instrument just for this competition” his friend argued.

“Still” Enjolras turned towards the back of the bus for a moment. Grantaire was sitting next to Jehan and was in an intense conversation with Joly and Bossuet. They seemed to like him, but that’s to them. “I just can’t stand him.”

“Your problem” Combeferre shrugged, then asked Enjolras about his activist blog instead. Enjolras was glad for the topic change. 

 

The audience clapped as Valjean motioned everyone to stand up. Enjolras was beaming as his conductor shook his hand. He followed Valjean with his eyes to see as he shook Jehan’s hand as well, then Bossuet’s, Eponine’s and then, as he lifted his hand up in the air and pretended to shake Grantaire’s through the distance. The boy replicated the gesture and he was smiling. Genuinely. It looked good on him, made his blueish green eyes shine.

Combeferre lightly leaned against Enjolras to smile at him, and the blond boy smiled back. He could feel Courf’s hand on his shoulder from behind him and he smiled even wider. Valjean left the stage and they sat down, waiting for him to appear once more and make them stand up again.

This time Valjean bowed and after he left again the orchestra took their sheets and left the stage too. The competition was held in a cultural centre in inner Paris and while the concert hall was full of quiet attention, the corridor, where the orchestra arrived after their performance was full of noise. Musicians from all over France ran to every direction. People with instrument cases looked for their dressing rooms, guys fought desperate fights with their ties. (Luckily, Eponine was an expert tie tier and she was willing to help Enjolras, though not without many snide comments about how embarrassing it was when the concertmaster couldn’t tie his own tie.) 

The next orchestra was nervously waiting before the doors. They looked older than them, which filled Enjolras with pride. Yes, these were the adult competitions, but not many of them in the Musain’s orchestra were older than twenty-one and he knew damn well if they win it will be something to be extra proud of. And they did amazingly. They had every chance to win and if they did they could enter the European competition. But what made Enjolras especially interested in their victory was the chance they would be given to tour around France and become famous enough to help with their music, to raise awareness, to promote causes and hold charity events and so on. Then his parents couldn’t have a word against him, playing the violin, anymore.

“Woah, you were awesome guys” Gavroche ran towards them with an excited grin. Cosette, Valjean’s adopted daughter, in his heels.

“That was so good” she threw herself on Valjean, who spun her around easily.

They were suddenly bombarded by people. Musichetta’s mom was hugging Joly and Bossuet so tight they had a hard time catching their breath.

“Your boys were fantastic” she beamed at her daughter.

“And what about me, mom?” Musichetta laughed.

“You are always fantastic, honey” she reassured her.

“My parents couldn’t come up to Paris, but they would let you know, I am always fantastic too” Joly added and they all broke into laughter.

Something tightened in Enjolras’s throat. Okay, his parents weren’t there, but it was no surprise, he told himself, so, he shouldn’t be this disappointed. He didn’t even tell them the competition was on that night, so he shouldn’t feel bad.

He glanced around. Eponine was talking with Gavroche and their sister, all of them were smiling together, which was a rare occasion, usually at least two of them were fighting. Feuilly was laughing with his girlfriend, Bahorel was surrounded by his friends from other orchestras who were already over their performances like they were. Courfeyrac was flirting with the volunteer girls, whose job was to let the orchestras in the music hall. Combeferre was talking with his old roommate, while listening in on Coureyrac’s flirting and rolling his eyes at the cheesier lines. Jehan was practically dancing around their grandmother who was the orchestra’s biggest fan after Gavroche. She even pinched Enjolras’s cheek as she walked over to her grandchild, but apart from that, no one seemed to care about him. Not like he wanted them to, it was just… lonely.

He was about to join Courfeyrac and the girls, even though he hated flirting and was terrible at it therefor was bound to ruin all their fun and make a fool of himself, when his eyes caught Grantaire. He was standing near the wall, looking over the orchestra with an almost blank expression, except for a little upward lift of his lips in the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t know about the concert for that long, so his parents probably weren’t able to clean their evening on such a short notice. Enjolras contemplated for a moment but decided speaking with Grantaire was a better option than standing by his own. Besides, the others seemed to like him, so he could probably give him a chance too.

“Hey, you were good” he stopped before him. This sounded little awkward, so he added. “Thanks for helping us out” Grantaire looked up from examining his shoes with surprise written on his face, like he didn’t expect Enjolras to talk to him. Well, Enjolras didn’t expected it either, so it was understandable.

“You were fantastic” Grantaire blurted out, then went red immediately. Enjolras could feel his face heat up too. He wasn’t used to so straightforward compliments from people he barely knew. “Ah and thank you?” he added. It sounded more like a question.

“I was a little sceptical about you, but you did great” Enjolras ensured him.

“What do you mean?” he pulled his eyebrows together.

“Oh, I mean how you couldn’t play the contrabass like…” he stopped. He actually had no idea when had the others asked him to help them.

“Two and a half weeks ago” he shrugged. “I tried.”

“I heard you play other instruments too” Enjolras tried to change the topic. He started to feel a little embarrassed by how little he actually knew about the boy.

“Yeah, I do” Grantaire nodded.

“Like what?” Enjolras persuaded.

“Well, I can play the piano, obviously, then there’s cello and well now contrabass. I can play the guitar, bass guitar, the drums a little bit and flute” he shrugged, fidgeting a little with his tie.

“The flute?”

“Yeah, I mean, I learnt to play it, because Jehan dared me to apply to a flute course with them, but I actually really liked it. I know it’s not that manly…” Grantaire looked down at the ground again.

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s just unusual, but I shouldn’t judge you for that. That would be a little contradictory” he laughed.

“What do you mean?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras’s expression turned into a happy grin. That was something he actually liked to talk about. A lot. Something he was actually good at talking about.

“I have that blog you see” he got his phone out of his pocket. “I write about a bunch of stuff, like racism, culture for every social group, how stupid gender-based assumptions are” he opened his page to show it. Grantaire took it and started reading an article about a protest. Enjolras first thought he would only glance at it, but he soon discovered the boy was reading through the whole article word by word.

“And you think this is going to change anything?” he shoved the phone back into Enjolras’s hand after a minute.

“Excuse me, what?” the boy gasped. He didn’t get how could he read through the whole thing with that tiny half-smile on his lips the whole time, then be this sceptical about it.

“I think, it won’t change anything. The world doesn’t change like that” Grantaire explained.

“You are wrong” Enjolras argued. It probably wasn’t the best argument, but what was this guy thinking?

“Uhm, no, I’m not?” the boy pushed himself away from the wall to stand on the same level as Enjolras. “What did the humanity achieve in the previous more than two thousand years? Nothing. And you think you can change that?” he laughed bitterly.

“You can’t simply be that ignorant” Enjolras shook his head. He still wasn’t over his first shock.

“I think you are the one, who is being ignorant here, Apollo” Grantaire shrugged.

“What did you call me?” Enjolras’s eyes widened. He only knew this guy for a few hours and they certainly wasn’t on nickname giving terms. In fact, it seemed like they would never be. But it was fine. It wasn’t like Grantaire was a permanent member of the orchestra.

“Enjolras, Grantaire, it’s good to see you’re getting along” Valjean stepped next to them and put one hand on each of their shoulders. “You both did wonderfully” he smiled at them. “Do you like playing the contrabass?” he turned towards Grantaire.

“Well, yes” he shrugged. “It’s a fun instrument to play.”

“Good, good. It’s good to hear” the conductor nodded. “Because I want to ask you to join the orchestra as our permanent contrabassist.”

Enjolras’s jaw dropped and Grantaire seemed just as surprised.

“It’s very generous of you sir, but I’m not sure you really want me here” he glanced at Enjolras.

“Oh, cut the bullshit” Bossuet appeared next to him, throwing his arm over Grantaire’s shoulder. “We totally need you, you bastard!”

“He is right, we all want you here, Grantaire” Courfeyrac joined them. “We were just talking about it with Ferre, how we hope you could stay.”

“See, I told you they would like you” Jehan beamed at their friend. “Musichetta told me she wants to adopt you with the guys.”

“Don’t expose my creepiness just yet, you crazy flowerperson” Musichetta shoved them in the side.

“Even I think you are great and that’s something” Eponine added.

“It really is” Gavroche called from under her elbow.

“Oh, shut up” she sneered at him playfully.

“Well, I’m not sure I’ll be the ideal person for you” Grantaire started, but hearing the groans from every direction, he quickly continued. “But I’m happy to stay with you as long as you want me to.”

“That’s the spirit” Bahorel boxed in the air and Bossuet, who still had Grantaire in his grip, ruffled his hair happily.

“I think that calls for a drink” Joly beamed.

“Khm” Valjean cleared his throat.

“A drink of lemonade for Enjolras and beer for the others” he corrected himself. How Enjolras hated to be the youngest sometimes. Not like he wanted to drink. It was more about the fact that he wasn’t allowed to. “Oh, cider for Eponine” he added after Valjean still looked at him pointedly.

“And we won’t take Gavroche with us” Combeferre helped him out.

“Oh, right, that was the second rule” Joly brightened.

“That’s not fair” Gavroche sulked.

“Valjean’s rules” Courf shrugged when he turned to him for help.

“Azelma will take you home” Eponine added. At that, both of her siblings made a face, but they didn’t object this time.

“And, we will go and celebrate” Musichetta cheered and they all agreed.

 

They sat at a table in the back of a cosy pub called the Cornith. Enjolras had never been there, in fact, Grantaire was the one who recommended the place, claiming it was his personal favourite. And no matter how much the dark-haired boy irritated Enjolras he had to give him that he had taste.

Little fairy lights were put up around the stairs and they covered the ceiling too. On the gallery, where they managed to find a table large enough to seat all of them, were paintings hanged on the walls. Enjolras was surprised to learn that some of them were actually painted by Grantaire.

“Which one is yours?” Jehan asked excitedly as soon as they saw the paintings. The others were in awe.

“These are beautiful” Enjolras whispered.

“I’m glad you like them, Apollo” Grantaire shrugged. It was only the two of them standing in front of a painting of the rooftops of Paris, while the others were looking through the drink menus. “That is the view from my room.”

“And how’s that gonna change the world?” Enjolras asked suddenly. He couldn’t help it, the guy’s comment about his blog really bugged him.

“It won’t. Nothing will” he shrugged. “But I got good money for them” he added.

“You are unbelievable” Enjolras grunted as he went to sit with the others.

“So, Grantaire” Courfeyrac leaned over the table as soon as they were all seated. The poor boy seemed a little taken aback and Enjolras had to laugh at him under his breath. “Tell us about yourself! We need to know more about our new member.”

“Can we please not do this?” he asked. “I’m not that interesting of a person…” he got interrupted here by a disagreeing Jehan, but he quickly recovered. “And I’m definitely too sober to talk about myself.”

“Well, let’s do it differently, then!” Courfeyrac brightened like he did every time when he was about to organise any social interaction. “What about we each ask you a question, huh?”

“Sounds manageable” Grantaire nodded after a beat of silence.

“Okay, Ferre, you start!” Courfeyrac announced excitedly.

“Well, okay” Combeferre pushed his glasses further up on his nose. “How old are you?”

“That’s boring” Bahorel commented.

“It’s important, you will ask something more interesting then…” Courf defended his boyfriend in no time.

“I’m eighteen” Grantaire hurried to answer. “Turning nineteen soon.”

“Hah, Enj is still the youngest” Musichetta beamed.

“I see” Grantaire motioned towards Enjolras’s lemonade with a sarcastic half smile that seemed to be his signature mark. “I’m so glad I’m over eighteen I couldn’t bare watch you drink if you made me have a lemonade instead of my good old wine” he lifted his already half empty glass.

“Oh, don’t worry he’s fine with it” Courfeyrac laughed. “Enjolras doesn’t really like alcohol all that much.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed after the disbelieving look that Grantaire gave him, but he quickly reminded himself that it was true and there was nothing to be ashamed of.

“That’s true, I’m fine with my lemonade” he agreed, taking a pointed sip. “They have really good lemonade here.”

“Good to hear” Grantaire nodded, still sounding a little taken aback.

“Okay, let me ask now” Eponine leaned forward. “Do you have siblings?”

“An older sister and a younger half-sister” Grantaire answered.

“What do you study?” Courfeyrac asked excitedly. And Enjolras couldn’t help but notice that Grantaire let out a relieved breath at the questions, like he was glad there were no more questions about his family. 

“Do you have any pets?”

“Do you have any other hobbies?”

And the questions went on and on. Enjolras only leaned back and listened. He learnt Grantaire wanted to study art but had taken a year off after high school and had just recently got a kitten. He had a photography blog and he worked for a model studio once a week as a photographer. He also designed flyers and commercial posters occasionally and he had an Instagram for his arts. (Enjolras followed him immediately after he got home. He had no idea why, but he was really interested. The page had sketches of Grantaire’s friends, random guys in bars, landscapes, stills, Jehans with different flowers around them, his cat.) Grantaire also played box as a hobby, he took dance classes and helped out at the local sport centre as a couch for young gymnasts. Enjolras was shocked to see how a person who believed in nothing could do so many things.

Then after a while the game changed direction and Grantaire was the one to ask the questions. So, the group told him all about how they joined the orchestra, what happened to the previous contrabassist, how there were always parties at Courfeyrac’s place and how he had recently moved in with Combeferre to his much bigger apartment. Bossuet described to him in great details how he and Musichetta got together and how Joly joined them only a few weeks after he joined the orchestra.

Feuilly showed him his online shop for the designer hats he was making and selling. He even asked Grantaire to be his professional photographer after scrolling through some of his Facebook posts and Grantaire offered to design a logo for the shop for free.

Bahorel told him about his famous barfights and Grantaire ensured him he was sure to join him one day. Eponine declared she liked him already.

They were almost ready to leave when Courfeyrac stopped them.

“Hey, guys wait! Our fabulous concertmaster didn’t speak a single word. Isn’t there anything you want to ask from Grantaire, Enj?”

“Well, uhm, sure…” Enjolras hesitated. The how you can be so irritatingly sceptical, wasn’t the right kind of question, he could feel that, so he took a moment to rearrange his words before he spoke. “Is there anything you believe in?” he finally asked.

“This one really shocked you, didn’t it, Apollo?” Grantaire laughed. He was in a much better mood with all that wine in his system. “And who knows, if I stay long enough I might find something worth believing in.”

“Like?” Enjolras pushed. He didn’t know why, but he desperately wanted to know.

“You, for instance” Grantaire shrugged, then stood up to get his coat. The others followed, but Enjolras stayed put. What did that mean? He desperately wanted to understand this guy, but hell, he so couldn’t.

“Come on, Enj! Did you fall asleep?” Courfeyrac threw his coat at him, so he stood too, paid for his lemonade and left with the others.

…

It seemed like the more Enjolras got to know Grantaire, the less chance he got to ever understand him. Ever. He was confusingly contradictory. Sometimes he acted as if he liked Enjolras, he smiled at him and talked to him when they were with the others, but at other times, he was being unbearable.

They were discussing next year’s concerts after their gala concert in June. They held a two months long summer break in every year with only a few days long orchestra camp during that time, but a lot of them, like Enjolras, went to different violin, viola or cello courses all summer. At the last rehearsal of every season, they discussed the songs they would play in the autumn season, therefor were going to practise in the summer camp.

Enjolras eyed Grantaire suspiciously. The boy was practically sleeping on his contrabass at the other end of the room. It was his first discussion like this. His first chance to express his thoughts concerning the future of the orchestra and he was sleeping. Simply unbelievable.

“What’s with him?” Enjolras leaned closer to Combeferre, tilting his head in Grantaire’s direction.

“Oh, Courfeyrac took him out for some drinks” Ferre shrugged. “He and Bahorel wanted to show him a bar, I guess. I was studying.”

Enjolras turned back to Courf with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, it’s true” he nodded, not even trying to disguise he was eavesdropping. “I had a curfew at midnight, like Cinderella, thanks to my boyfriend, who is secretly a grandpa by the way” Combeferre only rolled his eyes at that. “But as I heard R and Bahorel stayed out till… a lot later. I suppose they had a few more drinks too. They both look hangover and sleep deprived” he chuckled, then leaned back in his seat.

It was true. Bahorel was also using his cello as a pillow and didn’t even mind Eponine pushing her bow trough his hair with a wicked grin on her face.

“We will have an opening concert, of course. That will be pretty early in September, so we should choose from the pieces we already know” Valjean, who was talking with Jehan about something a moment ago, started the discussion, so Enjolras’s attention snapped back at him. Marius, a guy, who Courfeyrac had recently rented his old flat to and – as it seemed – also invited to play with them a week ago, fidgeted in his seat excitedly. He looked ridiculously childish with his large eyes and wondering face, but even he was older than Enjolras. An infuriating situation really. It was also infuriating how Grantaire, who had been with them for more than a month paid less attention than the new guy. 

“Then we are invited to play on a music festival in October, we will perform with the Musain’s choir too at the end of October, we will play on the Musain’s concert for the international day of music and, thanks to Enjolras” Valjean nodded towards him at which Enjolras sat up straighter. He could see Grantaire lift his head from his instrument from the corner of his eyes. Enjolras felt somehow even more excited about the following declaration now that Grantaire was paying attention.

“Thanks to Enjolras we will be able to play for children, who aren’t necessarily familiar with classical music. We are going to hold three concerts. Two in elementary schools of nearby towns and one in an orphanage” Valjean continued. “I think it is a wonderful opportunity both for us and the children. We can bring them something they might wouldn’t get to hear otherwise” he concluded. “So, any suggestions for what to play on any of these events?” he clapped his hands together and the discussion began.

Everyone was giving ideas and Valjean wrote everything down dutifully. Enjolras was especially proud of their choices regarding the children concerts. It was very well-planned. It contained pieces from various famous composers like Bach, Vivaldi, Shostakovich, Rossini and so on.

It was almost the end of the discussion when Enjolras realised something.

“Grantaire you haven’t said anything” he stated. He didn’t know why it was such a big deal for him to hear Grantaire’s opinion, but even Gavroche – who joined them after his violin lesson – had some suggestions and even Marius wasn’t afraid to speak up, so why did Grantaire stay quiet?

“Well” he cleared his throat. Enjolras had just realised he hadn’t heard his voice all day. “I think we should add some pieces to the program for the children” he said finally. Enjolras didn’t say anything, just gave him a challenging look to continue. “I mean, Vivaldi, great, Bach, great, Tchaikovsky, great. We love them, and they have beautiful pieces, but five-year-old children might find them boring” he explained with a sarcastic tone that he seemed to be using only in his discussions with Enjolras. On the same voice he declares that humanity might don’t want him to save them, that buying expensive Christmas gifts won’t necessarily make you a slave of capitalism and so on.

“And what do you suggest?” Enjolras asked on an even tone, trying to keep his anger in check. These concerts were important to him, he needed to stay level headed.

“I thought, we should add some film music to the repertoire” he shrugged. “I mean something they might already know.”

“Like?” Enjolras asked again. He fought really hard to keep his voice even, but it still came out as somewhat threatening. This concert had to be educational and perfectly classical. These children had no opportunity to listen to classical music and get to know the great composers of the past. They shouldn’t shorten them by changing some of the pieces with newer ones.

“Like Disney tunes or something iconic like from Star Wars or Pirates of the Caribbean” Grantaire explained.

“Wow, that sounds cool” Marius beamed.

“I want something from Beauty and the beast” Jehan threw their hand up in the air even though there was no need for it, because everyone talked whenever they liked to.

“Can I choose a movie, can I?” Gavroche ran to Valjean excitedly.

“It’s actually a really good idea, isn’t it?” Combeferre turned to Enjolras expectedly. And the blond boy had known him for long enough to identify that his friend had offered him an easy way to end this discussion peacefully and really hoped that he would be smart enough to accept it. But deep down he must have known that it wouldn’t happen that way, because if Enjolras was one thing, he was stubborn.

“No, it isn’t” he stood up suddenly. He tried not to sound too desperate, but the words broke out of him without control. “We can’t do this. The kids don’t need this. They expect something old and classical and we must give them that.”

“You mean something kids in kindergarten call boring?” Grantaire challenged.

“We will play in elementary schools” Enjolras gritted between his teeth. Wasn’t Grantaire also a musician? What was his problem, calling classical music boring?

“Then they call it lame, same difference” he shrugged.

“No, they don’t” Enjolras argued. “Or if they do, we need to show them it’s not true and give a concert with the best pieces, so they can see it for themselves.”

“Enj, I don’t think you get what Grantaire wants to say” Combeferre interrupted cautiously. “I think he means they will enjoy the classical pieces more if there are some songs closer to their interests, right?” he looked at Grantaire who nodded.

“Something like that.”

“I don’t agree” Enjolras fought back immediately, but Valjean cut him off.

“Let’s vote about it” he suggested, and everyone nodded in agreement. Enjolras calmed too. Surely, the others would see his point. “Who votes for that we include film music in our repertoire?” Valjean asked. Enjolras expected a few hands, but he didn’t expect the whole orchestra raising their hands in union.

“Sorry, I think R’s right” Combeferre shrugged, seeing the betrayed look on Enjolras’s face.

“Is this fine with you Enjolras?” Valjean turned to him.

“I guess it has to be” he shrugged. “I hope it turns out to be a good idea after all” he added.

“Me too” Valjean smiled, then they continued to discuss what to change about their programme. Grantaire didn’t add any ideas again, but this time Enjolras stayed quiet with him. He still thought it was a bad idea, no matter what the other’s opinion were.

At the end, they settled with a medley from the songs in Pirates of the Caribbean, a tune from Madagascar for Gavroche’s request and Valjean promised Jehan to find something from Beauty and the beast too.

“It was a wonderful idea” people surrounded Grantaire when they finished.

“Why didn’t you say it sooner?” Courfeyrac asked. Enjolras was always amazed by his talent to ask the most important questions. He would have wanted to know that too, had he not been still so angry with him. What a ridiculous idea was that? And it was his project after all. It would have been nice to do it the way he imagined it, just this time. Not like he had the right to admit that. As Combeferre had told him, the orchestra wasn’t about just one person, they were a community, they should decide together.

“Well, I wasn’t sure I should” Grantaire admitted. “I mean I haven’t been here for a long time, I didn’t know if you wanted to hear my opinion.”

“What?” Courfeyrac flew into action. “R, you are a valid member of this orchestra. You should give your opinion every time. It matters.”

“Well” Grantaire muttered, clearly a little overwhelmed. “It’s good to know, then.”

“Oh, you are even stupider than the blondie” Eponine sighed as she leaned against Grantaire to push a sneaky finger into his side.

“Thanks” Grantaire laughed. “Though, I don’t think our glorious concertmaster is stupid” he run his eyes over Enjolras with that sarcastic half-smile of his. Enjolras felt his stomach tighten and was suddenly very aware of the fact that he hadn’t combed his hair that morning and he probably looked like a mess.

“Oh, as soon as you get to know him you will say differently” Eponine argued and Enjolras was about to object, when Courfeyrac cut him off.

“I think we should celebrate this day with a brunch together” he smiled.

“Oh, it would be nice at… any other time, but right now, there’s nothing more appealing than my bed” Grantaire confessed. “I hadn’t got much sleep, but took up for it with alcohol, right?” he winked at Bahorel. Enjolras didn’t know why he wished he was invited to that outing. He was turning eighteen in a few weeks. Why was he never invited?

But also, why did he care? It’s not like he wanted to go, or anything. He had things to do. He worked on an especially difficult part in one of the pieces his private violin teacher gave him for the summer all night.

“I’m so sad I couldn’t go, sounds as if it was big fun” Feuilly admitted. “But I’ll finish that big order soon, so then we should repeat it.”

“And that, we’ll do” Grantaire grinned, while imitating to lift an imaginary hat off his head slightly.

“Ah, prefect. That time I might manage to drag Ferre with me” Courf beamed.

“And I won’t have to babysit my irritating brothers” Eponine gave Gavroche a pointed look, but he only grinned and shrugged. He and the twins must have given her a hard time last night.

“Oh, we are happy to come too when it’s not our date night” Bossuet agreed.

“I’ll come too if you send me word sooner” Jehan added. “I was already sleeping when you sent out the invitations.”

“I may never be able to understand how you could pull that off” Grantaire commented. “It wasn’t even past seven.”

“Marius, you should also come!” Bahorel added. “The whole thing started out as a program to show you the best places around here.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame I couldn’t get away” the boy agreed.

Enjolras suddenly felt incredibly left out. He desperately wanted either Combeferre or Courfeyrac to mention him, to somehow include him in the conversation, but they didn’t help this time, since they were too engrossed in convincing each other if staying home or going out is a better option for a night, while basically eye-fucking each other. They were really disgusting sometimes.

“And when will our underaged angel turn eighteen?” Grantaire asked suddenly. Examining Enjolras’s face like it was the most exciting study in the world.

“Oh, uhm… in a few weeks” Enjolras stuttered. He felt warm inside and had an urge to hug Grantaire for that comment. Luckily, he managed not to act on it. When did he grew this hungry for social gatherings? Or bar hopping? Or whatever they did on those nights?

“Then maybe he should come next time” the contrabassist nodded slowly, never turning his eyes from Enjolras’s face. 

Enjolras felt like he couldn’t move, couldn’t open his mouth to answer, he couldn’t even get self-conscious about his hair, just watched Grantaire’s face, his blueish green eyes under his dark wavy locks and said nothing.

“That’s a wonderful idea, R!” Courfeyrac jumped on Enjolras, hooking one arm around his shoulder, breaking the moment that most likely felt much longer for Enjolras than for the rest of the group. “I can’t wait for this baby to grow up” he ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Ah, for heaven’s sake, who came up with that irritating nickname you keep calling me?” Grantaire groaned.

“Who do you think it was?” Bahorel laughed and petted Eponine on the back.

“Oh, I should have known” the boy laughed too as they left the building.

Enjolras had never felt so confused about Grantaire.

…

Enjolras thought his eighteenth birthday would go well with his parents, he really did. And it indeed started out better than his last ones. They woke him up around nine with cheerful expressions on their faces and had him sit in the living room to watch videos of himself as a toddler with his father, while his mom made pancakes for breakfast. She even agreed to pour maple syrup on them, though she didn’t miss her chance to claim it unbelievably unhealthy again, as she did every time when Enjolras asked for it.

Then they continued to look through old photo albums and his parents seemed generally proud of how far he got with his violin practises when they found a picture of eight-year-old Enjolras holding his first violin. Of course, they also mentioned how proud they were that he also managed to take time to study and expressed how hopeful they were that he got into a good university at the end of next year, but Enjolras couldn’t find it in himself to care that his parents still didn’t consider violin as a real carrier. They were proud and that was a progress.

He soon forgot about the comments anyway when they found a picture of ten-year-old him and twelve-year-old Combeferre sitting in the cafeteria of the Musain, their small violin cases next to them, eating ice cream after their first concert together. Enjolras’s blond locks were cut short and he had irritatingly straight bangs and Combeferre had melted strawberry ice cream all over his hands, so he couldn’t push back his glasses on his nose. Enjolras still remembered their duet they played on that day. That was the first time they played together, and it only took them a few rehearsals before it to become lifelong friends. Ferre was his oldest friend, and the only one of his friends whose name his parents managed to remember, even if he had also been friends with Courfeyrac ever since he and Combeferre ended up in the same class in high school, which was almost six years ago. But he didn’t let himself notice that and let his parents rave about how wonderful his friendship was with Combeferre alone.

They went to have lunch in a fancy restaurant, which had amazing food and they let Enjolras drink champagne, which – combined with the heat of early summer – made him slightly dizzy and cheerful enough to let it slide that his mother actually chose the restaurant, because she had a meeting with her colleges there and left the table to join them after an hour. She came back by the time to leave anyway and his father told him stories from his early twenties, while she was away. Not like they were new to Enjolras or like he was particularly interested in the adventures of four geeky engineer students, but his father was willing to hear some of his stories about his friends too, so it was worth it.

He truly managed to feel happy and not be bothered by how his parents apparently knew nothing about him until they got home, and his parents handed him their presents. It wasn’t like he had any particular wishes, he had just imagined his presents on his eighteenth birthday were slightly more personal than any other times.

He half expected the huge bottle of wine his father first handed him.

“To help you enjoy being an adult” he clapped his back as Enjolras thanked him politely. It was a little cliché, but whatever.

He felt an excited rush as he turned towards the rest of the wrapped presents on the table. There was a square package, wrapped in golden wrapping paper that looked unmistakably like books. He lifted it excitedly. They weren’t hard covers. Maybe they were music books. Whose pieces were in them? Enjolras’s heartbeat sped up in excitement.

“It’s more like a practical thing than a gift” his mother explained as he started to unwrap it and oh… There were no music books in there, but the “Guide to a successful future”, the “How to choose a career”, the “Top 15 universities in France” and the “Abroad or not? More than 100 arguments for and against studying abroad”.

“Well, they seem really useful” he managed to get out through the lump in his throat and tried to disguise his disappointment by unwrapping his next present. It was a fancy suit. Enjolras told himself that at least he could wear it on his next concert. He got some t-shirts as well. A nice watch and a board game. He understood the board game the least. Since when did his parents have time to play board games with him? Or did they expect him to play by himself?

“We thought we will have the cake tomorrow, when your grandparents are here. Is that all right, honey?” his mother asked, sensing his disappointment, but failing to identify its reason.

“Yeah, sure, I’m pretty tired anyway” Enjolras lied, then glanced at the watch. Only four pm, but whatever. “I couldn’t sleep well last night, I think I’ll take a nap” he announced and retrieved to his room.

He curled up on his bed, silently cursing his birthday, because why was it after the last orchestra rehearsal? He really needed his friends right then, but Courf told him he and Ferre would be visiting his grandmother in the countryside and Feuilly still had to work on his big order for some fancy oversees shop. He contemplated calling Jehan, but they usually had poetry nights on Fridays and they usually spent the day doing their strange rituals that helped them ‘get in the right mindset’ as they called it. Enjolras feared better for his sanity than to disturb them on Fridays. 

His other options were Eponine, who would surely mock him, and he had no desire for that, Bahorel, who was probably sleeping in preparation for some big Friday night party. He didn’t know Marius that well and he seemed too cheerful for his current mood anyway. He knew Musichetta was working in a café near the Seine with Joly and Bossuet keeping her company and he almost got out of bed to join them but decided it would really upset his parents if he left for such a long time. Simply getting to the café and coming back immediately would have taken him more than an hour. And it wasn’t like they didn’t try to make his day special, they deserved to at least think that it was what Enjolras needed.

His only other option was Grantaire, but if he had no energy for Eponine, he surely had no energy for Grantaire. He would not simply mock him but utterly confuse him and his mind was enough of a mess without that interaction really, so he decided on watching a movie.

He was around the end of the random comedy he had started, when he heard cheerful voices from the living room. He pushed his laptop away from him in confusion and was about to check who their visitors were, when his door opened and revealed Courfeyrac and Jehan, fighting to get into the room sooner than the other. Combeferre stood behind them with a cheerful smile on his face.

“Happy birthday!” his smile widened as Jehan and Courf managed to enter at the same time, which meant they basically fell over each other and both landed on Enjolras’s floor.

“Hey, I wanted to wish him happy birthday first” Courfeyrac turned to his boyfriend, not impressed by his betrayal, then caught the expression on Jehan’s face and quickly turned toward Enjolras, who was still sitting on his bed, trying to understand what was happening.

“Happy birthday, Enjolras!” they blurted out at the same time.

“Are you two done?” Combeferre rolled his eyes fondly, before entering the room. “We have to go. Pack some warmer clothes and anything you need, then let’s go!” he turned towards Enjolras.

“I’m sorry, what?” his head snapped up, unable to understand what was happening. Combeferre and Courfeyrac was supposed to be on the other side of the country and Jehan was supposed to run around in their flat in a flowery tunic, burning herbs and listening to slam poetry on their sound system with the volume turned all the way up, while sipping some strange cocktail.

“Well, we are going to celebrate your birthday, of course” Jehan explained.

“Or did you think we wouldn’t do it?” Courfeyrac got up to throw himself on his bed next to him. “You are the last one to turn eighteen, it’s our last chance to throw a ‘stepping into adulthood party’” he explained.

“Also, we love you and would have done it anyway” Combeferre added and the two others nodded in agreement.

“Now, get ready quickly, our driver is waiting” Courfeyrac declared and proceeded to stab his finger into Enjolras’s side until he finally got up and pulled out a backpack to stuff a pullover and some comfy trousers in it. Combeferre, who left the room at some point came back with his toothbrush and they were ready to go. To wherever their destination was.

Enjolras was so shocked he hardly had a mind to say goodbye to his parents, so Courf’s words about their driver waiting had only sunk in when they were already out on the street, heading towards an unfamiliar dark green jeep. Enjolras quickly went over the list of cars his friends owned, but this wasn’t the tiny electronic car Combeferre had, neither was it Joly’s second-hand, red one, Jehan’s hippy bus, or Feuilly’s truck with his business’s logo on the side, and it definitely wasn’t Bahorel’s motorcycle. 

“I call shotgun again!” Jehan exclaimed excitedly as they ran for the door. Courf wanted to disagree, since it was Enjolras’s birthday, but the birthday boy was totally content with sitting in the back with his best friends, so he let it slide and got in. Combeferre threw Enjolras’s backpack into the jeep’s open back, which had already contained two tents and some camping equipment. Enjolras raised his eyebrows at Ferre, but he only motioned for him to get in the car.

He was still occupied with wiggling to the side to let Combeferre get in next to him, when the driver turned back with an unusually wide smile on his face.

“Well, if it isn’t our newest adult” Grantaire said, sounding weirdly happy without the usual amount of sarcasm in his voice. He looked fresher than he usually did and was in a rarely cheerful mood. Seeing him in a car felt strangely disorienting for Enjolras, probably because based on the stories he heard from the others and Grantaire himself, he associated the boy with endless drunkenness. “Happy birthday, Apollo!” the boy added, before he turned back to start the engine.

“Where are we going?” Enjolras only managed to get out that much from the shock of the repeated surprises.

“Well, since I’m on driver duty, where do you think?” Grantaire sent him a playful look from the rear-view mirror as he pulled into the street.

“It’s actually an organised plan and not only his idea…” Courfeyrac hurried to point out, while typing on his phone furiously and trying to hide it from Enjolras’s view.

“Oh, let him sell it like that!” Jehan rolled their eyes. “Look how much he enjoys it that way!” they giggled.

“Fine” Courf leaned forward to pet Grantaire on the shoulder before going back to, most probably, texting their friends.

“Okay, so where are we going?” Enjolras tried asking again, since his friends seemed to have forgotten about the original question.

“Well, first, we obviously need to get some boose” Grantaire declared with a cocky version of his half-smile.

“Wheep, wheep” Courfeyrac mimicked the sound of a train whistle as the jeep left Enjolras’s street.

 

They stopped after a short ride to the nearest supermarket, where Bahorel was waiting for them on his motorcycle, Eponine behind him. Inside, Grantaire and the two of them filled up a chart with alcohol with great precision. They added two cartons of beers, a couple of ciders, wines, vodka, jäger and a couple of other bottles Enjolras didn’t examine too closely.

“You pay for that, blondie” Eponine finally pushed the chart in Enjolras’s direction who managed to catch it just before it could bump into a shelf packed with fancy wines. He was about to object, because they would never let any underage pay for this much alcohol, but a moment later realised they actually would let him do it, starting on that day, so he only shrugged and pushed his chart up to the cash registers. Jehan quickly joined in after him with both arms full of juices and sodas. Courfeyrac stood behind them with enough chips to feed an army. Combeferre had a basket full of sausages and marshmallows.

The cashier only sent them an annoyed look before chipping down everything in Enjolras’s cart.

“This is your eighteenth birthday, right?” she asked on an annoyed tone, but Courfeyrac answered with unaffected cheerfulness.

“Yes, it is, please ask for his ID, he needs the full experience!” he smiled at the lady with his most flirtatious smile, who only rolled her eyes.

“How old are you?” she turned towards Enjolras with a deep sigh.

“Eighteen ma’am” he answered, just a bit more nervous than he should have been. He heard Grantaire snicker behind him, but his other friends were hiding their laughs too.

“May I see an ID?” the woman rolled her eyes and Enjolras handed it over after some awkward attempts to pull it out of his wallet.

After Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Jehan and Grantaire had paid for their stuff too, they sat back into the jeep, waving farewell to Eponine and Bahorel for a while.

“This time our road will be slightly longer” Jehan warned them as Grantaire pulled out into the traffic.

 

The next part of the road was indeed longer. Just getting out of the Parisian traffic took them a good forty minutes and from there they had a one-hour long trip ahead of them. It felt even longer because Jehan and Grantaire started to throw around strange metaphors of the traffic lights and the people on the streets, then ended up debating about how fairy princes looked like. Those two had an interesting friendship for sure. Luckily, Jehan’s grandmother baked them some muffins for the road. They had red frosting, which made Enjolras smile beyond himself. His favourite colour. Jehan’s grandmother was truly the sweetest lady in all of France.

Grantaire finally left the main road and drove up to a rocky dirt road, which led into a nice, but not even slightly familiar forest.

“Where the hell are we going?” Enjolras demanded again.

“So impatient, Apollo” Grantaire smirked. “Would you like me to drive a little faster on this road? Did you not like your lunch and wanna puke it out?”

“Must you put it like that?” Combeferre whined on a voice barely above whisper. He wasn’t a big fan of long car rides and from how his expression, their journey had started to get to him.

Enjolras only rolled his eyes at Grantaire’s comment but didn’t ask again. Soon enough, they arrived at a clearing anyway. Bahorel’s motorcycle was already parked there. Of course, it was much faster in traffic, but Joly’s car was there too, parked under the trees at the edge of the clearing. The boy must have given a lift to Bossuet, Musichetta, Feuilly and Marius, because they were all there, running towards them from the middle of the field.

Enjolras took the time, while Grantaire parked down the car to look around more carefully. In the middle of the field was a pile of woods that would soon turn into a bonfire, or at least that was his safest guess. Around it stood three tents already. Between two of the trees at the far end of the clearing hung a sign that had ‘Happy birthday, Enjolras!’ written on it with huge, red and blue letters.

“Do you like it?” Courfeyrac grabbed his hand excitedly. Enjolras looked at his friends in the car, Courf examining him with a hopeful expression on his face, Combeferre smiling at him softly (of course, he already knew Enjolras liked it), Jehan turning back in their seat excitedly and Grantaire watching him in the rear-view mirror again with his signature smirk playing on his lips, his eyes shining with every colour of blue and green.

“This is already the best birthday gift I’ve ever received” he managed to get out after a moment of silence, which he spent fighting the lump in his throat.

“And the party haven’t even started yet” Jehan exclaimed excitedly as they jumped out of the car.

“Where’s the birthday boy?” Enjolras could hear Musichetta ask and in the next moment Courfeyrac had pushed him out of the car and the others were dragging him by the arm and he found he can’t make his cheerful grin disappear from his face. Not like he minded it even a tiny bit.

 

After they built Jehan and Grantaire’s and Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s tent (the remaining three belonged to Joly, Musichetta and Bossuet, Feuilly and Bahorel, and Marius and Eponine), they grilled all the sausages, then moved on to marshmallows. Grantaire had brought a guitar, so they could sing campfire songs, while eating and talking.

Enjolras mostly retreated to watch his friends, nursing a bottle of cider. (The others said he would like that better than beer, but it was a little too sweet for his liking, so he only drank it in small sips.) He had told Combeferre and Courfeyrac about his birthday presents from his parents in the car and now they both entertained him with their favourite stories of him for a while. Combeferre told Courfeyrac about the time they went to the theme park and his glasses fall down on a ride and Enjolras threatened the park with fines, because they didn’t have a warning sign for not to wear glasses.

“So that’s why they put those everywhere” Courf laughed. “And do you remember when he started to bully one of our homophobic high school teacher online?” he added.

“I was just telling him the truth. It wasn’t bullying” Enjolras muttered.

“Whatever” Courfeyrac waved him off. “You were fucking thirteen and it was awesome. Uuuh, it’s Ed Sheeran!” his head shot towards Grantaire with the guitar and in the next moment he was singing Perfect with all he had, while sending disgustingly romantic looks towards Combeferre.

Enjolras proceeded to watch his other friends as the songs changed. Musichetta sat in Bossuet’s lap and sang with her head leaned back on her boyfriend’s shoulder. Joly sprayed them with bug spray from time to time and occasionally sprayed the grass with barnacle repellent too.

“I don’t want any of us to have lyme disease” he explained.

Next to him sat Bahorel who was in the process of drinking one of Jehan’s strange alcohol mixes they made.

“Wait, wait, one more thing!” they pulled the plastic glass back to pull out a small vial from the pocket of their maxi skirt (yes it had pockets) and add it to the mix.

“What’s that?” Bahorel pulled up an eyebrow, he seemed slightly worried, which, knowing Jehan, was justified.

“Food colouring” Jehan shrugged. “Now, it looks more stylish.”

“It’s dark, you idiot” Bahorel laughed while he took an experimental sip from his glass. “It makes no difference.”

“It does to me” Jehan shrugged and turned from him to ask a song from Grantaire, who nodded and plucked the first chord of a song, unknown to Enjolras. Eponine on the other hand seemed to recognise it and nudged Marius, who she was talking with until then, to sing with her.

Enjolras turned his gaze towards Grantaire this time. He was watching the phone in front of him with the chords of the song. The fire painted his features with an orange shade, his unruly curls fell in his face, covering his temple with dark shadows. He wore a t-shirt, which didn’t cover his surprisingly strong arms, or maybe it was just the shadows from the fire that made it seem so muscular.

“I want to see that!” Bossuet shouted and Grantaire looked up surprised. Jehan seemed to have been talking about something regarding Grantaire with him, Joly, Bahorel and Musichetta, because they all stared at Grantaire expectedly.

“You do?” he asked from his friend. What were the others talking about? And was he really so focused on Grantaire’s muscles that he missed it entirely? The thought made him blush heavily and he was never gladder that it was dark.

“If you didn’t invite us, then at least you could show us something now” Musichetta agreed, but Grantaire only shook his head. He looked at his hand with a timid expression on his face. Enjolras never thought he would see Grantaire being shy about anything.

“Oh, come on!” Jehan leaned against him, basically purring into Grantaire’s ear. Enjolras looked around with a desperate look on his face. He had no idea what the others were talking about.

“Grantaire had just won a dance competition and apparently, he only invited Jehan to watch it” Feuilly took pity on him and leaned closer to fill the boy in. Enjolras only managed to nod. He tried to wrap his mind around Grantaire dancing. What kind of dance did he even do?

“Oh, R, for fucks sake, I bet you are the best, let’s drag your ass to that field!” Bahorel motioned towards the empty clearing behind them. “And show us what you know!”

Grantaire smiled at that but continued to study his knuckles with great intensity. Unfortunate for him, Courfeyrac decided to take matters into his own hand and started chanting Grantaire’s name until the others joined him. After a few minutes of that, Grantaire gave in and stood uncertainly, but a little smile spread over his lips as everyone cheered triumphantly, including Enjolras.

“Then, I need a partner” he muttered as he looked between his friends. Enjolras felt as if his gaze had lingered on him for a second longer than on the others, but he must have imagined it, because the next he knew Grantaire was pulling Eponine up from the grass. “Come on, Ep. Let’s show ‘em how it’s done!” with that, he tossed his guitar at Bahorel. “Play something that passes as tango!” he ordered, then grabbed Eponine by her waist.

Bahorel plucked at the strings with a huge smile on his face, then started a more rhythmical combination of the few chords he knew. Jehan started to hum some random tune to it absentmindedly, but Enjolras didn’t pay attention to that. He was watching as Grantaire led Eponine a little farther from the fire and slid one hand to the small of her back. He held up the other one and Eponine slowly pushed their palms together. They locked eyes and Enjolras saw Eponine saying something with a huge grin on her face. He couldn’t see Grantaire’s expression, but it seemed like he didn’t feel the need to answer, because in the next moment he pulled Eponine closer and started to dance around the empty field with her.

Enjolras didn’t even realize he was watching the couple with his mouth open, until Courfeyrac elbowed him in the side.

“If I knew you liked tango that much I would have given you a dance course ticket for your birthday” he joked and Enjolras willed himself to roll his eyes at that. He doubted he watched the dance so intently because the dance itself amazed him, it was more like how Grantaire danced was enrapturing to say the least. The way every muscle in his body was stiff and he still moved so gracefully as if it was the easiest thing to do. How he had his arms around Eponine, which were indeed strong – Enjolras concluded. (Not like he would ever admit that to Courfeyrac, he might have thought there was something to it, when there wasn’t.)

He heard Feuilly laugh next to him, so he tore his gaze from the dancing couple to see what’s going on around him. Bahorel was the reason of the other’s delight, who decided, simply making Grantaire dance wasn’t enough and started playing faster and faster, willing the other boy to move quicker. Finally, when the tempo had tripled since the beginning, Grantaire gave up and rolled Eponine around, letting her fall back into Marius’s lap. The boy laughed and congratulated his friend, while gently placing her next to him on the grass.

“Now, give me my guitar!” Grantaire hopped down to the ground too. He was panting heavily and had a few of his hair stuck to his slightly sweaty forehead. Enjolras absentmindedly thought he looked like how the magical fairy princes would that Jehan and Grantaire argued about in the car.   
Then his brain cut to one of the contrabassist’s rants in the Musain cafeteria, where he described to Musichetta how the fairies had a very busy sexual life and… Okay, that was a little too much, what was up with him? He didn’t drink that much. He had half a bottle of cider, he must have a bigger tolerance than that. That little shouldn’t cause inappropriate fantasies of the orchestra members, right?

“What time is it?” he asked from Feuilly, desperately hoping it was late.

“Two am” his friend supplied and Enjolras couldn’t keep back his relieved sigh. It was only because of the alcohol and tiredness, nothing else. “Why?” Feuilly questioned, looking puzzled by Enjolras’s relief.

“Nothing” he shook his head. “I think I’ll head to my tent” he stood up. Before I get any other crazy thoughts – he wanted to add but thought better of it.

 

The next morning, they ate the remaining sausages and packed everything up pretty quickly. Enjolras had to get home for lunch, so they had to wake relatively early to get ready in time. With everyone being so tired that they could barely focus on the task to get everything they owned packed it was easy for Enjolras to stay away from Grantaire… just in case.

He spent the ride back sleeping, only getting up to go to the bathroom, while the others stopped to get coffee. He didn’t want to be awake in such a small space as the jeep with Grantaire. He didn’t want to remember the thoughts that crossed his mind last night. They were embarrassing even to remember them. At least, he had no time to think about these stuff at home, because his grandmothers and maternal grandfather were already there, bombarding him with embarrassing childhood stories and questions about his future, he didn’t want to answer.

They had a big family lunch with a huge cake, then his grandmothers took him out to see a concert in one of the music halls. At least they adored Enjolras playing the violin and often took him to see other great people play it. His grandparents left around seven in the evening and Enjolras was ready to collapse onto his bed after last night’s party, when his mother stopped him.

“Sweety, one of your orchestra friends dropped by while you were out” she smiled excitedly. Enjolras didn’t bother to point out that he didn’t really have any other friends besides the ‘orchestra ones’. “He left you a present” she added and Enjolras didn’t feel tired anymore.

“Who?” he asked excitedly. With their different financial background, the orchestra had long ago decided that they wouldn’t give anyone presents for their birthdays, because eleven birthdays would cost a lot to some of them.

“Well, I didn’t recognise him” his mother shrugged. At least, she looked slightly guilty for not recognising his son’s friends.

“He wasn’t Combeferre” Enjolras’s father called from the living room, pleased with himself by recognising the boy wasn’t the boy, who had regularly slept over at their place since Enjolras was ten. Enjolras decided not to dwell on that for now.

“What did he look like?” he asked his mother instead.

“Well, he was kinda like your height, and had dark hair. A little bit curly” she supplied, happy to be able to answer.

“Courf?” Enjolras asked. “I mean, Courfeyrac?” not like it made much difference. His mother’s expression stayed empty. They stared at each other helplessly for a moment, until his father called from the living room again.

“It’s on the counter.”

“Thanks” Enjolras hurried to get his present and retire to his room. It was a simple envelope. Inside it was a paper in the size of the envelope. It had a doodle of Enjolras on one side. He was leaning against the side of the paper, having a grumpy expression of his face. He had a violin in one of his hands that were folded over his chest. There was a line above the doodle with written with scruffy handwriting. It read: when the government makes you so angry you can’t even play the violin… It was pretty funny to be honest.

As Enjolras took in the drawing, he forgot about the mystery around the person behind the present for a moment and took his time to take in the artwork properly. It seemed like a rather quick sketch, that would take no more than ten minutes to someone, who could actually draw. Of course, that meant Enjolras would have spent two hours on it and still couldn’t have achieved what he saw before himself. That thought took him back to his first question: who sent him the present? About one thing he was sure by now. It wasn’t Courfeyrac.

He flipped the paper and immediately felt foolish. It had a note. Of course, it had a note. The person who sent it obviously wanted Enjolras to connect the gift to their name, why else had they sent it? The note said:

The others told me you don’t really send each other bday presents, but I overheard what you told to Courf and Ferre in the car, (I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it isn’t really a huge car you know…) Anyway, I thought you deserved some more personal present, so… Not like mine is such a masterpiece or anything, I just… Happy birthday, Apollo! I hope you like this doodle and think it’s at least a little bit funny!

R

P.s.: I drew this one in a hurry and didn’t know what you would like, so if you have anything you want me to draw, just text me or idk and I’ll make a better one

Enjolras stared at the message for a long time, connecting the dots of information in his head. Firstly, Grantaire obviously wasn’t that invested in the debate on fairies if he heard him complaining about his parents. Secondly, Grantaire sent him a birthday present! He felt like this sentence deserved minimum one exclamation mark even in his head. He drew him.

Enjolras turned the paper back and stared at his doodle self. It was surprisingly good, on second thought. He sent an angry look to himself in his mirror. His features were the same as the ones on the drawing. It seemed like he frowned a lot more during orchestra rehearsals than he should have if Grantaire could memorize it this well in less than two months. 

He spent several minutes examining every little line on the artwork, then, after he concluded that even his outfit was one that he actually owned and even the little violin in his hands resembled Partia (his violin, obviously), he felt too overwhelmed by how accurate the portrayal of him was and went to look for a place in his room for the picture instead. 

Only when he finally decided to put it on his nightstand against the stack of books that were always there and laid back on his bed, had he time to address that strange feeling that had started to unnoticeably take over him. That warm tingling of air around him, the feeling that he wanted to curl up in his bed and fell asleep while thinking of Grantaire playing guitar near the fire, dancing, drawing in his sketchbook, playing his contrabass, smiling, drinking, being Grantaire. Ad it was terrifying.

He desperately tried to come up with a good reason for feeling like that, and oh, yes, he must still be sleep deprived, he remembered and let out a relieved sigh again. Yes, that was it, he needed to sleep. That was all. That, or he had a crush on Grantaire and that wasn’t an alternative. Grantaire irritated him, he couldn’t stand Grantaire, besides, he had no time for any romance other than the one with his violin. 

So, he figured the best way for all this to end was to go to sleep and don’t think about Grantaire when he woke up. There were no more rehearsals, he didn’t even need to see him until music camp. It wasn’t like he needed to keep his distance, he was just tired after all, but better play safe.

He sighed and pulled the covers over his head, then after a few minutes of tossing around he got up and tucked the doodle in the bottom of his desk’s drawer. Just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> The Musain Music School's string orchestra (in this chapter):
> 
> conductor: Valjean  
> first violin: Enjolras (concertmaster), Combeferre, Courfeyrac  
> second violin: Jehan, Musichetta, Marius  
> viola: Joly, Bossuet  
> cello: Eponine, Bahorel, Feuilly  
> contrabass: Grantaire


End file.
